Cataclysm
by NuclearOne
Summary: The Hiigarans, Taiidani Republic, and Imperialist Faction become involved with an even greater enemy.
1. Trial by Fire

_Rumble._

There was a slight rumbling noise coming from the rear of Jeil's fighter. He had heard the stupid, irritating vibrating ever since this morning, when he had started this sleepless patrol duty. Actually, it wasn't really patrol either.p

It was baby-sitting. Baby-sitting in a piece of Republican junk that couldn't stay together for more than a few hours. And that was the primary reason he was out there. It was supposed to be some effort to boost Hiigaran-Republican relations through pilot trade-offs. The fact that Jeil had been near the top of the list made the matter even worse: Being at the top of any transfer list meant that you would be the first to go. And that's the way it was.p

"Another breezy day," Jeil moaned into the comm system. "Tell me again why we're out here." The transmission was sent to another Republican fighter close-by him, another Republican fighter also piloted by a Hiigaran. p

"Cut the sarcasm, will ya?" A female pilot began criticizing Jeil. "If you really want to know, just look down there." The pilot moved her fighter into position as to point Jeil in the direction she wanted him to look. When Jeil did look down, he saw the baby: A Qwaar-Jet class Republican cruiser. He still didn't understand what they were doing out here in the middle of nowhere. Every Hiigaran and Republican fleet commander knew that the new Qwaar-Jets  had the newest plasma weaponry implicated in its once mass-driver turrets, making it impenetrable to fighter attacks. p

So why?

Most likely it was because that the cruiser, the _Shun-Tahk, a Kharakian phrase that translated roughly into "Raging Storm", was lying disabled in the field after what appears to have been a hyperdrive malfunction. There was no visible damage to the outer hull, apart from a small dent where a tiny asteroid had impacted the cruiser._

"And when is that repair craft going to get here?" Jeil said impatiently. "We've been out here for a couple of hours now with no recovery in sight." He couldn't see it, but Jeil assumed that the female pilot in the Interceptor in formation with him was sighed deeply.

"You really want to know?" She shot at Jeil. "I'll open a channel to the carrier if you want to find out. Go ahead and let Commander Terrs scream through the comm system. It's funny listening to that stupid, garbled Taiidan yell at us." Commander Terrs was the commanding officer of the Republican carrier that the two pilots were based on: the _Pride of Sajuuk_.

"Ah, can it, Jerril," Jeil shot back. The pilot then tried something that he had tried to do for the past hour. "_Raging Storm, _this is Republican Dispatchment 00092, _Pride of Sajuuk. Do you copy? Repeat, this is Dispatchment 00092 to __Raging Storm..." He repeated this over and over, but had no answer. The _Raging Storm's _power supply had pretty much been knocked out, as there was obviously no response to the transmission. Either that or the crew was incapable of responding. The cruiser just sat in space like a piece of scrap heap._

Speaking of scrap heap, Jeil was flying one himself, this one in the form of a Taiidan "Triikor" interceptor.  If he remembered correctly, he was flying one of the most nimble and deadliest ships in the Republican fleet. This fighter was capable of performing high-speed maneuvers, reverse itself, then use its forward turrets to punch a hole in any other fighter in a matter of seconds. Being the most nimble also meant that it was the most lightly armored too. The small fighter would barely be able to withstand a direct hit from a Destroyer's mass drivers, and now that the weapon systems had been upgraded to plasma weapons, the little fighter was probably the most vulnerable target on any battlefield. Still,  Republicans and Imperials alike continue to push this fighter into production as the second most-produced ship in the Taiidan and Hiigaran fleets combined. The Triikor carried a mass driver ammo reserve of about nine hundred rounds, rearmed by resupply vessels such as the "Heesk" Support Frigate. It was enough to take out an entire squadron of enemy fighters if used wisely.

"All right, pilots," the Republican wing leader called out. "Don't get lazy. Stay on your feet. The Imperials have been stepping up their presence around here lately." So _that's _why they were out there. If the Imperial fleet led a strike on the _Raging Storm, the cruiser wouldn't be able to defend itself well with the power malfunction it had suffered. Jeil had never anticipated an Imperial strike out here near Republican space. They weren't that stupid or suicidal, though they had in past few years launched several carrier groups into the Republic's 5 light-year buffer zone. A combined Hiigaran-Taiidan defensive force had pushed back at least three invasions so far._

Just as Jeil started to get comfortable, an anomalous blare began to whine in his cockpit, alerting him to the detection of hostile vessels. 

"Hold on, wait!" Jerril shouted through over the channel. "We've got an incoming battle group... Imperial configuration! Repeat, two Imperial Frigates and a wave of fighters are inbound!" Jeil rushed to his controls and, pressing a small blue button, powered the fighter up. He immediately took the joystick and slammed it downwards, sending his fighter into a steep climb, up and away from the _Raging Storm_. He saw his first target easily: a "Kaark" class bomber was inbound for the cruiser and had foolishly split formation from the other ships. Jeil's targeting control systems determined the bomber as a threat, and thus showed a flashing red blip on the radar screen of the fighter's Heads Up Display. Jeil set his fighter up for an attack run, aiming for the primarily sensitive spot in the Kaark's plating: the plasma conducts for the bomber's plasma warheads. A detonation there would send the small ship into a fireball the size of a quarter of a frigate. When Jeil closed to 30 meters of the bomber, a female voice echoed through the cockpit: "Target in range. Accuracy: 50%." So, he had half a chance of hitting the ship and half a chance of not. _I'd prefer hitting this slippery nuthead before he gets to the cruiser_. Jeil pressed down on the trigger on his joystick, sending dozens of mass driver rounds screaming at the bomber within milliseconds. The pilot of the Kaark responded by sending his bomber into a tight spin downward, a dangerous maneuver in a ship like that. The stress from the movement would tear the ship apart. 

As usual, an impatient Jeil didn't wait as he began his pursuit. Immediately diving and closing in on the bomber, he reopened fire, this time hitting the delicate engines. Situated right there was the volatile reactor core of any fighter or corvette, and even though the armor would generally repel most incoming fire, a direct hit in the reactor would cause an instant power spike that would overload the fusion systems and send a pilot to his next life. Which it did. Jeil had hit right on the mark, and the next thing he did was fly right through the fireball left behind by the exploding bomber. "I got 'em! I got 'em!" He cheered through the comm system. "Bandit down!" 

"Beautiful kill, sir!" One of the other pilots in Jeil's squad congratulated him. After spinning his fighter around in a victory dance, Jeil identified his next target: a Triikor interceptor, the same class as his ship. However, the pilot had already identified Jeil as an eligible target and was closing just as fast. The Imperial fighter opened fire, landing a few critical shots on Jeil's fighter. "Warning! Warning! Incoming projectile fire! Warning!" The computer informed Jeil in harmony with the alarms. Jeil immediately returned fire, impacting the Triikor in the cockpit area. The Imperial fighter was still closing with weapons hot, firing even more furiously. Jeil immediately sent his fighter into evasive maneuvers, spinning around and banking left and right, not turning around or curving, however. "7 meters from object." The computer reported. "6...5...4..3..." As soon as the alarm sounded, Jeil dived sharply and attempted a high-risk maneuver that few other pilots would attempt. The very second after he dived, he immediately turned his fighter around, located the Imperial Triikor in a millisecond, and fired. The mass driver rounds pierced the interceptor's light armor, and sent the fighter into a violent spin. The force of the spin and shaking split the Triikor in two, the cockpit half exploding in a small burst of fire, the other half leaving a fireball much like the bomber's fuselage left behind.

Jeil felt proud of himself. _Two Imperials down in a matter of minutes.__ I'm on a roll here._ Before he could engage another target, a distress call roared over the comm system: "Can one of you flyboys gimme some cover!?" It was Jerril. He had left her at the hands of an Imperial fighter, closing fast and staying tightly on her tail. Jeil immediately located both Jerril's ship, then the fighter attacking her. _On my way._He put on a burst of engines, igniting a small reserve of plasma in his conduits and sending his fighter into incredible speeds. When the force of the ignition died down, he found himself within firing range of the interceptor, but developed a different tactic. _If I could just get Jerril in front of me._ He hit his engines and soared upwards, far past Jerril and the Imperial interceptor, then spun around, positioning himself directly in front of his ally's fighter at a 21 meter distance. Jeil targeted the pursuing Triikor, and, rolling as Jerril went by, pressed his trigger down hard. The resulting burst of mass driver sound impacted the fighter right in the cockpit. The kinetic armor of even the interceptor couldn't repel the dozens of round impacting at the single point that it did. The enemy fighter went up in a roar of flames and finally burst apart.

"Good work, pilot," Jerril thanked Jeil indirectly. "Nice shot." Jeil had no time to pay attention, as he had already locked on to the nearest frigate. It was Sajuuk-Cor  class, which translates into "God's Wrath". Because this vessel was Imperial, it was missing a Hiigaran translation of the ship's name, leaving it unidentifiable to Hiigaran crews and pilots, even though the Republicans could probably translate it. It was written in Taiidani, after all.

_Idiot.__ There are more important things then the name right now. The pressing concern at the moment was that Jeil had to find a way to destroy the frigate both without the cruiser's ion cannon support and the fact that a fighter has a pretty minimal chance of taking out a frigate on its own, especially an interceptor. Speaking of interceptors, Jeil's ammunition supply had just dropped to 672 after the three previous engagements. If he had any slight chance of taking that ship out, he would either need capital ship support, bomber support, or a full load of ammo. And he didn't have __any of them. The other pressing matter was that the two frigates were nearly in range of the __Raging Storm, and once they fired their ion cannons, the force would rip the ship apart after a few critical hits. And Jeil _certainly _didn't want that to happen, now did he?_

Jeil quickly devised a solution in his head. _Suicide..._ He thought of the next easiest way to gut a frigate: full ramming speed! At the very same moment, another Taiidan Triikor closed in on his tail, firing rapidly but aimlessly at the young Hiigaran pilot. _Just what I _need._ Jeil sent his fighter up into an upwards climb away and above the frigate he had targeted. __Lesse_ if you're as stupid as I hope you are_. Making a few slight adjustments, Jeil sent his fighter straight into the light of the nearby sun, nearly blinding himself and the pursuing pilot. The Hiigaran pilot quickly shut down all of his power systems, leaving him vulnerable to only heat-seeking trackers. The sun was the second defense. With the Imperial fighter both blinded and unable to locate the Triikor by sight or radar, he would have no choice but to break off. Jeil positioned himself just to make himself above and behind the Imperial fighter at a sort of a 6 o' clock position, the optimum attack position for any fighter. Except Jeil didn't want to kill that fighter just yet. __Live my little fighter... live! He repowered up his ship, hearing the same clutter and rumble from the back again. After a swift elbow butt near the rear of the cockpit, his ship sprung to life and Jeil immediately put himself in pursue of the Imperial fighter. He let out a few rounds from his gun, hoping to hit the Triikor in the stabilizers._

Which he did. Very efficiently. The wounded fighter spun out of control and straight towards a certain target: the Sajuuk-Cor that Jeil had targeted. _Comon_... comon..._ The fighter impacted in just the right place: the bridge of the frigate. Hopefully, the resulting crash and explosion would shut the frigate down for good, even if it didn't destroy it completely. Jeil's plan went accordingly, as the Triikor exploded, more than likely vaporizing the instruments on the bridge and the crew at the same time. As if in a death throe, the frigate twisted to its starboard, fire pouring out of its bridge. The explosion had also changed another factor. The Sajuuk-Cor began to shift off-course from the cruiser and into the blackness of space surrounding them. __That's the way to skin a cat. One frigate down, one to go. The other Sajuuk-Cor was now dangerously close to the _Raging Storm_, almost within firing range, perhaps. Desperately thinking of a plan,  one of the lessons from the Academy popped into his head. He remembered being in a classroom with a retired Manaani pilot giving them lessons on the parts of a standard Hiigaran and Taiidan fighter. There he had recalled the tertiary fuel pods being mentioned, and that there was always a way to jettison them to a Support Frigate for refueling. _

_Sure hope this works_. Jeil waited for a moment as the frigate fired its primary beam weapon at the cruiser, the deadly blue beam impacting the cruiser on its port side. When he saw the beam power down, he pulled right in front of the appendage that sent the weapon in its designated direction. He quickly located the green button with **TERTIARY FUEL POD JETTISON**, mumbled a few quick words in his native language, then pressed it. He could feel the bump as two fuel pods were ejected from the rear, and straight into the frigates main cannon. 

"Pilot, what in Sajuuk's name are you doing?" Jerril called from her cockpit. "Get away from there!"

_I'm getting there_ Jeil said to himself. He immediately flew his fighter out of the beam's path. _30 meters... 40 meters... 45!_ He was 45 meters away from the frigate, the safest distance from the blast. The familiar hum of the particle accelerator roared through space. _This'll be your last._ The blue beam fired at the _Raging Storm_, the captain too late to realize what Jeil had done. The fuel pods had parked themselves right in front of the exit point for the beam, and the weapon's force broke the pods apart and ignited the delicate fuel. The blast initially only cut the beam's focus arms off, then about ten seconds later, ruptured the particle accelerator, vaporizing the frigate in a matter of seconds. "Eat that, you slimy..." Jeil's own words were cut off by the rousing cheers from his Hiigaran and Republican wingmates.            

The victory cries carried on as Jeil watched what remained of the frigate float through space. 

There was another familiar sight in the immediate vicinity, this time a hyperspace signature. As the vessel emerged, the configuration of a Saarkin-Cho class carrier slipped out. There was a Hiigaran translation on the starboard side of the vessel: _Pride of Sajuuk_. So _this _was the recovery ship Jeil had been waiting for.

"_Pride of Sajuuk_ to Dispatchment 10092. Repeat, _Pride of Sajuuk _to Dispatch..." Jeil shut off the comm system and merely set his ship on auto pilot for the docking bay. _Mission_ accomplished _he told himself._


	2. Pandora's Box

            Kashka read the number on the door: **112. _This is it_ she told herself. Opening the door, she saw a dark patch of hair with a pair of hands sliding through the greasy weeds.**

            "Commander?" She started up. The man at the desk raised his head up slowly, like he was expecting the young officer. 

            "What is it," he groaned out "Lieutenant?" Kashka pulled up one of the small brown chairs situated in front of the desk. Taking a deep breath, she reported the news.

            "Commander," She sped up to tell the rest. "We're in position at the edge of Hiigaran space. Should I-" The commander cut her off before she could answer.

            "Deploy fighter wings Zeta and Upsilon," He ordered her. "Then scan the belts for any Hiigaran warships. We don't want to be caught off guard." Kashka replied to her senior officer with a slower tone.

            "With all due respect, Commander," she said self-confidently, "we are ourselves hidden in this field. We would be impenetrable to all scanning." The officer looked at her harshly, giving her an I-know-that-you-idiot look.

            "If you're requesting permission for a flight," he said, much to her liking, "then you got it. Get in your ship ASAP and head out with Upsilon." Kashka stood up from the chair, saluted the commander, then left the room with a grin.

            "Yes, sir!" She said, closing the door behind her. In a few minutes, she was down at the launch bay of the _Imperial Wrath and staring at the sleek demon that she had grown accompanied to: the Triikor Interceptor. It was a rather odd design, boasting two cannons, one mounted under the cockpit and the other mounted next to the fuselage. The pair of strange "wings" on the rear had folded up before her previous landing, but when extended, gave the Triikor a fearful look. Taking her mind off her ship, she turned her attention to the pilots and crew that were wandering about in the hangar. _Let's do this_._

            "All right everyone!" Kashka hollered, her voice echoing. "Zeta and Upsilon squadrons, get over ASAP." She grinned and said, "We're movin' out!"


	3. Liberty Shattered

                _Whoooooosh__..._

            A pair of fighters had just flown past the bridge on Adam Terramin's vessel. He felt rather relaxed at the soft yet powerful sound of a fighter's engine hum. Perhaps it was the loneliness of the Hiigaran borderline that the sound had relieved, or the sleepiness that had swept over the officer during the past hour. The deck of the _Freedom had become very quiet over the course of the day; half of the ninety officers were either resting in the barracks or residing in the galley in the ship's lower decks. The rest of them were sitting at their controls and gunning posts, remaining vigilant. Vigilant for what, he didn't know. He was their captain, but he still didn't know them that well._

            "Dester, give me a sensor readout of this area," he ordered a young, black-haired officer in front of one of the computer screens. Lieutenant Dester looked up from his post and groaned.

            "Again, Captain?" He whined. "We've done about thirty already. There's nothing here!" Terramin cut him off instantly.

            "Just do it! Things can probably change. If there's even a small signature that doesn't look, sound, smell, speak, or taste like us, tell me."

            "All right..." Jeraf Dester answered, groaning as usual. He punched in a few keys on the board and looked at the data given to him. In a few seconds, he had it all interpreted. "Nothing, sir. Dead out. Only us, the _Liberty, the __Caruuk__, and a few fighters." That was it. And that's all there __had been for six hours. The three vessels on duty, the _Freedom_, a Hiigaran Avatar cruiser, the _Liberty_, another Hiigaran vessel, this one a Revelation-class destroyer, and the _Caruuk_, a Republican Saarkin-Cho carrier. The three vessels made an excellent team, as they had in the past. Adam could remember all the way back to the Homeworld War where the three vessels had assisted in the ambush at the one hyperspace gate guarding Hiigara, taking a major portion of the Imperial Guard by surprise. The most recent engagement they had fought in together was the Engagement at Coruc-Far, where a joint Imperial-Turanic Raider fleet was pushed back by the excellent teamwork and coordination by the three vessels. Now, here they were at the outskirts of Hiigara, standing a boring guard duty for another hour. _

            _Just one more hour Adam told himself. __Then they'll be here. "They" referring to their relief: the Kiith Nabaal Command Fleet. _

            "Wait... Captain!" Dester sputtered out as the radar screen started flashing. Alarms started wailing throughout the ship, waking sleeping crewmen up and getting them into uniform. "I'm detecting incoming jump signatures!" The Captain quickly turned to face Dester, anticipating some minor Turanic Raider battle group.

            "What are they? Can you identify?" Dester pushed buttons on the keyboard in front of him and displayed a full-sized view of the vessels.

            "They look Imperial to me, sir," Pushing more buttons, he identified the specific vessels. "Looks like a nice-sized battle group. Four to five frigates, Kudaark and Sajuuk-Cor, a pair of Skaal-Tels, and a Qwaar-Jet backing it all up. Looks like we have our hands full, Captain." Adam looked out the forward observation deck at the approaching armada and grimaced.

            "Right," he said to the officers on the bridge. "Battle stations! Get me the _Liberty_ and _Caruuk on screen with their C.Os immediately!" A different officer in a white-blue uniform pressed a few buttons next to the giant screen on the bridge. In a few moments, two screens popped up and showed two officers, James Besset on the left and Feral Tiirshak on the right. The former's white hair curved neatly backward to his neck, leaving a tanned, bright face showing with a grin. Tiirshak, on the other hand, was a giant for his race, and was a well-built officer, having been through his own routine of exercises for fifteen years now. "_

            "Besset here," the _Liberty__'s captain acknowledged. "What's going on?" Besset almost seemed surprised that they were about to fall into a fight. After all, Coruc-Far had been two years ago._

            "We've got a class-three situation on our hands here," Terramin answered quickly. "Seems like the Imperials want to drop in for tea." Besset nervously ran his hand through his hair.

            "How many of them?"

            "A small group of frigates," Terramin answered Besset. Just as the _Liberty__'s captain became relaxed, Terramin gave the bad news. "Backed up by a pair of Skaal-Tels and a Qwaar-Jet." After taking a deep breath, the captain of the __Liberty__ asked one question._

            "What's the plan?" Terramin smiled. If there was one person he could always depend on, it was Besset.

            "Tiirshak, launch three squadrons of fighters and one of bombers," Terramin told the Republican officer in the left-hand screen. "Besset, let's keep those destroyers and cruiser busy and give the fighters time to destroy the frigates." Tiirshak nodded in agreement, as did a rather nervous Besset.

            "Roger that, Terramin," Tiirshak answered as he cut the comm channel. Besset's face disappeared shortly after. _Here we go. Again. Turning to the bridge, Terramin eyed his crewmen._

            "All hands, battle stations!" Merely seconds later, klaxons started wailing across the ship and red lights began to glow and flash, bringing more than a few officers to the bridge. 

            "Alert!" The computer warned. "Alert! Hostile signatures inbound." _As if I don't know that already._ Terramin himself stood near the front of the room, closest to the observation window. From there, he could see four to five frigates on approach vector. The familiar, spikey configuration of the Kudaark frigate came into view along with three other ships, all Sajuuk-Cor.

            "_Liberty, you with me?" Terramin spoke into the nearest comm channel. A few seconds passed before the familiar sound of Besset's voice answered._

            "_Liberty here. Orders?" Terramin took a quick look at the approaching frigates, drew up a quick analysis in his head, then replied._

            "Besset, let's blast our way through those frigates," The cruiser suddenly shuddered. They were being hit, and from the high-pitched screech coming from outside the ship, he could tell they were the plasma bomb weapons on the Kudaarks. "We need to get in range of those supercaps." More time passed, and more plasma warheads hit the cruiser. 

            "Roger that. Powering up weapons." Terramin stared out the viewport and at the nearest approaching frigate, a Kudaark. 

            "Power up the forward cannons," he ordered, returning to the center of the room. "Full speed ahead!" As he gave the order, the roar of the Avatar's colossal engines echoed through the ship. At nearly the same time, a hum originated from the bow of the ship. 

            "Target, sir?" One of the officers asked the Admiral.

            "Open fire on that approaching frigate," he ordered. From the bow of the ship, four massive ion cannons propelled themselves at lightspeed toward the Kudaark. At nearly the same moment, two smaller ion cannons pierced the same frigate. The _Liberty__ had opened fire, and, judging by the origin of the beams, was forming up on the starboard side of the _Freedom_. As both warships' beams powered down, the Kudaark came back into view. The entire lower half of the frigate had been severed, and the upper levels showed scars from the _Liberty___'s cannons as well. _

            "Commander," Dester spoke up from his screen. It was blaring loudly, and that was never good. "I'm picking up an energy spike off one of those Skaal-Tels." Terramin realized what the officer was talking about right off the bat. Turning to the crew on the bridge, he opened a channel to the interior of the ship.

            "All hands, brace for impa-" He was cut off by a violent rumble. The Skaal-Tel had opened fire on the _Freedom. Terramin felt the cold deck as the impact knocked him over, losing his wind from the land. When he had recovered himself, he stood up and looked out the viewport. The Taiidan Destroyer was nearly upon their ship, staring almost defiantly into the __Freedom's bow. "Open a channel with the __Liberty." A matter of seconds later, Besset's face appeared on the right-hand screen on the viewport._

            "Besset here," he opened. "You got orders for us?" Terramin nodded.

            "_Liberty__, try to get above and behind that Destroyer," he said confidently. "Keep its main guns busy while we charge up the cannons." Besset, understanding, nodded and cut the channel. "Weapons crew, power up the main cannons," he ordered. "Prepare to fire on my mark." As he gave the order, a loud rumble ran through the _Freedom_. Just outside the ship, the _Liberty_ had engaged its main engines and was on course for the Skaal-Tel. As the __Liberty__ came into the viewport of the _Freedom_, another blast of red ion cannons hit the cruiser. Klaxons began wailing as the ion stream carved across the ship._

            "Damage report!" Terramin shouted, steadying himself from the impact. Dester was on it immediately.

            "Deck M reporting casualties," he answered. "Deck D through F reporting hull breach. Engineering level reporting moderate fires." 

            "Get a damage control team to Deck E, ASAP," Terramin ordered. "Get Med Team Zulu to Deck M." Meanwhile, outside the ship, the _Liberty had pierced a pair on ion cannons into the front of the Skaal-Tel. Targeting its new enemy, the Destroyer began maneuvering to intercept the Revelation. A pair of beams shot out from the Skaal-Tel and missed the _Liberty___ by a matter of meters. _

            "Targeting controls, activate subsystem targeting mode," ordered the commander. "Lock onto that ship's reactor core." A pair of officers pressed buttons madly until a loud blare indicated lock.

            "We're locked, sir," one of them reported.

            "Good," Terramin responded. "Weapons crew, are the beams ready to fire?" A short garbled transmission came through to the bridge.

            "Roger that, Captain." 

            "Full power to the main cannons," As the order was given, a soft hum rushed to the bow of the ship. The Skaal-Tel now had its belly facing the _Freedom_. "Open fire!" The same massive cannons that had ripped the Kudaark open now focused their energies in the dead center of the enemy Destroyer, ripping through the hull in a matter of seconds. The beams pierced the reactor core, sending a massive shockwave out from the Skaal-Tel that shook both the _Liberty__ and the _Freedom_. As the crews of both ships steadied themselves from the explosion, the Qwaar-Jet cruiser pushed itself through the wreckage of the destroyer. The menacing vessel was on course to attack the __Liberty._

            "This is Besset," the captain of the _Liberty__ reported. "We're reading a power spike off that cruiser. Capta–" Besset's words were cut off as the cruiser's forward cannons sliced through the hull of the __Liberty. Instantly, fires starting erupting out of the destroyer's belly and port side, and the ship began tilting from the impact._

            "Besset, do you copy?" Terramin shouted into his comm channel. "Repeat, _Liberty, you there?" All that came back through the transmitters were screams and death throes of hundreds of men. A tear ran down Terramin's cheek as he realized what had happened. The __Liberty__ had been destroyed._

            Besset was dead.


	4. Fortune Amongst the Stars

**Fortune Amongst the Stars**

Commander Jack Tanen's viewport was clear, like it always was. Today was a quiet day, and, not expecting anything to happen, Tanen had sent most of the crew below decks to relax. They had all been working back-breaking shifts since dawn of last week, and needed more rest than they could get. Their work hadn't been in vain either; for once this year, the _Kunn-Lann_ would actually make quota with the Soomtaw refineries. Despite Tanen's continued explanations to the CEOs of the refineries about pirate raids on collection posts and the _Fal-Corum_ being away on a deep survey mission, the blood-sucking lawyers back at Hiigara ever tightened their grip on the throats of the _Kunn-Lann's crew._

And he never complained once about his job out here. The _Kunn-Lann, or "Purifying Flame" in Hiigaran tongue, was the first of Kiith Soomtaw's forays into space exploration since the Providence resource collectors and Redemption controllers in the Homeworld War. Back on the Hiigaran's former home of Kharak, Kiith Soomtaw had gained a reputation for mining due to their findings in Kharak's central mountain chains. The title still held, and Kiith Soomtaw sold their ore and harvested minerals to more than thirty-five clients, including the enigmatic Bentusi and the new Taiidani Republic. _

Unfortunately, the way to their prosperity wasn't easy. When the industrial powerhouse Kiith Nabaal came to take in Soomtaw as a vassal clan, gruesome political battles began. Though supported by the powerful Kiith LiirHra, Kiith Soomtaw won the debates and struggles, thanks mainly to their supporters in Kiiths Paktu and Maanan. To prove themselves in the business of mining, Soomtaw was allowed to access the Mothership's construction bays for barely two months, in which time engineers produced three vessels. The first, designated _Fal-Corum, or "Silent Wayfarer", was launched on day twenty, with the _Kunn-Lann_ shortly behind on day thirty-five. A week or so later, a small science vessel cleared docks, the __Clee-San, or "Truth-Seeker". _

Now, assisted primarily by the noble and knowledgeable Bentusi, Soomtaw had developed an advanced fighter platform in the form of the "Acolyte" heavy fighter. A smaller recon vessel, aptly designated "Seeker", carried the most advanced sensors of its time and was primarily used by the Soomtaw to scan for radioactive belts and mineral deposits deep in space. Even more common in the Soomtaw fleet was the "Worker" class of resource collector. It was an old design originating from the construction of the Mothership, and the re-entry abilities of the vessel were no longer useful. The blunt-shaped body of the ship allowed it focus on a specific center of gravity, thus standing still in the center of an asteroid field where the standard Providence classof collector would be destroyed quickly. Fortunately, the compact interior allowed the vessel to carry just as much cargo as the other collectors.

Tanen also occasionally saw a Chieftain-class of vessel come along. The Chieftain was one of Soomtaw's original designs, and it served its purpose well. The ship was a remote drop-off site for the Workers with four high-speed transfer docking clamps to get the Worker docked and released quickly. More interesting was the amount of change the ship had gone over in the past two years. It's Mark Two version had hardened the armor of the already stable ship, while the Mark Three, its current stage, boasted four medium turrets to defend against pirate attacks. There was one characteristic of the vessel that made it stand apart from any other. The Chieftain was the only ship in the entire Soomtaw fleet never to be commanded or crewed by any military personnel. Every single Chieftain in service has been manned by the true soul of Kiith Soomtaw: the miners.

Tanen never complained about being on this ship out in the middle of nowhere. The vastness of the galaxy surrounding him never ceased to amaze him, and every excursion into uncharted territory gave him a sense of adventure. The rare occurrence of a pirate raid made his job even more pleasing as he heard and watched the massive turrets of the _Kunn-Lann _rip the raiders' ships to pieces. Nothing ever caused fear in him. After all, with squadrons of fighters and battle groups of Ramming Frigates at his command, how could he be afraid?

More than often, Tanen viewed mining as women's work. Combat is where the real test lay, and every time a raider battle group fell to the _Kunn-Lann's defenses, Tanen felt himself becoming more and more of a warrior. Like many of the pilots on this ship, he was a Homeworld War combat veteran and more than often found himself strapped in the cockpit of an Acolyte fighter chasing down marauders. The mere sight of his guns spewing out hot death made him nearly seem invincible. Not that anyone minded it, of course._

Pressing a few buttons on the side of his quarters, Tanen watched the door slide open, revealing a small room with a smaller bed in the corner. It was getting late anyway, so he decided to call it a day (or a week, for that matter) and catch up on some much needed sleep.

As soon as his shirt came off and landed on the floor, he was in bed. Closing his eyes and switching his light off, Jack Tanen fell sound asleep.


	5. Pickin' for a Fight

It was blistering hot on deck. In fact, it was hot _everywhere in the ship. It wasn't ordinary heat either; the heat had actually a few Hiigarans and Taiidani in sick bay. Jeil wasn't normally one to complain, but it had gotten to him, too. If it weren't for the captain's permission to walk around deck practically naked, everyone on the ship would have passed out. Even worse, Engineering started complaining about some breakdown in the engine room. Jeil overheard them say that it was irreparable with the parts available. Everyone knew what __that meant. Normally, a damage control team in the buffer zone would've been sent long ago. However, the _Pride of Sajuuk_ was parked right outside the maximum range for communications, so a squad of pilots had been sent out to relay the transmission closer to Republican territory. So, for about six hours or so, everyone last one of the pilots and crew of the _Pride of Sajuuk_ had to suffer through this painful, scorching heat._

Jeil, nearly asleep in the barracks and covered only in his undershirt and boxers, didn't want to move. His back hurt enough from the weight room's punishment, and his head burned from the heat. When the barracks door suddenly slid open, he slowly rose in bed and looked at who was walking in. Amazingly enough, it was Jerril, and she looked nearly as scorched as he was, and equally clad. She had on her sportswear, so Jeil suspected she had been down in the weight room herself. Her brown, clipped hair showed of sweat, and her arms of exhaustion.

"You nearly as hot as I am?" Jeil moaned weakly. Normally, Jerril would have some snide remark. Instead, she didn't seem to be in the mood to be snide. _Harsh_, maybe, but not snide.

"Don't push it," she growled. "I'm hot. I'm sticky. I _really don't want to have to beat you to a pulp right now." Wow. She didn't even want to _touch_ Jeil._

"Whoo-wee," Jeil replied sarcastically. "I guess I must feel _lucky or something like that." Jerril threw on one of her light white shirts, mumbling curses at Jeil's sarcasm. Or maybe just at Jeil altogether._

"All right," she said quietly. "You want to know _why_ I'm so mad?" She was now facing Jeil's bunk, eyeing him angrily. Grinning, Jeil replied to her.

"Sure," he said, lying back in bed. "Why not?" Ignoring the fact that Jeil was on the verge of laughter from her shape, Jerril started.

"First of all, I'd like to start off by saying that it annoys the _heck out of me when you do that," she commented, referring to Jeil's tapping on the wall. Nearly instantly, he stopped. "Now the real deal. That vampire Commander Terrs has me going out on __another hour-long patrol." She couldn't help but notice that Jeil was nearly dead laughing in his bunk. "Will you __SHUTUP? I guess you wouldn't mind coming along with me." Jeil sat up in his bunk and, restraining his laughter, spoke._

"Actually, I wouldn't mind it," he told her. "In fact, I've been dying of boredom inside of this Republican junk. Why not die _doing_ something in another?" He had a point. Boredom and heat had gotten to the entire crew. Well, maybe just the heat.

"Fine then," Jerril replied, grabbing her gear. "Meet me down in the ready room. We'll see if you're really _that_ bored." If there was one thing that Jeil hated most about that girl was her constant daring and "we'll see" stuff.

"All right," he shouted as she walked out the door. "Maybe you won't be so _hot and __sticky in that cockpit then."_

The shoe missed him by a matter of inches.


	6. Wrath of TarshuJa

Another cold drink slipped slowly through Adam Terramin's throat. He had had five already, but honestly didn't care. All he wanted was for it to go away. Ever since the battle two days ago, he had been in his quarters, staring at old pictures of him and James Besset together and ones of the two with Besset's family. The fact that he had to be the one to tell Marian about her husband's death nearly wanted to make him kill himself, and telling her kids didn't lessen the pain at all. All he wanted was for those fanatic, insane Imperialists to feel the pain.

All he wanted was his best friend back.

As another sip went into his mouth, one of the men sitting next to him slammed the drink on the table. 

"_Sajuuk__ ca sha nak!" He cursed at the man in his native language. The man didn't turn back from holding Terramin's drink out of his reach.___

"Captain Terramin, that's enough," he told the captain sternly, staring Adam in the eyes. He relaxed himself slightly before continuing and lowered his tone. "Drinking yourself to death isn't going to bring him back." He motioned back behind him at a group of crewmen sitting at a table, heads hung low. "We all miss Captain Besset. Lieutenant Faulkner back there knew him like a father. Do you think he's in any less pain right now than you are?" Terramin threw his fists down on the bar, knocking over a series of drinks and glasses with a shatter.

"_Ca shak na!" He cursed again. His head went on the table as well. In pure irony, in trying to get rid of the pain, he only got himself one bad headache. He didn't stop beating his head open on the table until the man pulled his head up, grabbing by the hair._

"Terramin, _ca shak na!_" He shouted again. When he let go of Terramin's head, the officer relaxed. For the moment. "If it makes you feel any better, I ordered the sensor data of that mission to be overlooked by the braniacs up at Tactical. They said they'd have some sort of analysis on that cruiser by the time you got back to base." Terramin sighed out deeply, relaxing himself. His head was blood red from banging it on the table, and his hands cut at points from breaking glasses.

"And where am I?" He asked rhetorically. He stood up, and, slurping the rest of the drink down, walked to the door. "I'll be up at Tactical, Admiral." He said to the nearest officer in the room.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The room Terramin ended up walking into was probably the most crowded he had ever seen. And probably the most cluttered, too. Everywhere he went, he was dodging sensitive equipment and officers constantly, avoiding only by inches knocking a few lamps over. Fortunately, he didn't have to go far. There was a small group of computers and equipment a few feet ahead, with a brightly-lit sign above it saying **Hiigaran** Fleet Intelligence – Tactical**. He approached a short young woman standing in front of one of the screens, nudging her for attention. Her head turned quickly and eyed Terramin. She smiled slightly and greeted the captain.**

"Captain Terramin," she spoke excitedly. "We were expecting you, I think." She ran her fingers through a group of papers and picked out a specific sheet full of numbers and codes.

"Hope you were," he replied to her. "You have some tactical readouts for me?" 

"You're the _Freedom's _captain, right?" She asked him.

"Correct," he answered her, nodding. Turning to the large screen, the woman pressed a series of buttons, bringing up the image of a Qwaar-Jet Cruiser. "That's it." He acknowledged the picture. Seemingly ignoring the captain's comment, the woman began.

"The _Wrath of Tarshu-Ja_," she said confidently. "The captain's an old Imperialist fanatic, one of Riesstiu's finest. The only name we know him by is 'Kartanou', probably a family name or something." A screen popped up in the corner, showing the evilly grinning face of a Taiidan, his stare giving away everything about him. Terramin could see that this guy was bad news.

"That's the wretch, all right," he told the woman. His teeth gritted together, just remembering the _Liberty's_ destruction.

"Apparently, he's the one of the last of the Emperor's Elite Guard," the woman continued. "Shortly after the Taiidani civil war, he nestled himself somewhere in the borderlands of the old Empire. Transmissions intercepted during that period indicated that he was amassing the Imperial fleet for some sort of massive counterattack." Terramin looked up at the screen, which had changed to view a galactic map, and eyed the blipping ping in the right corner.

"Has the Fleet done anything about it?" He asked the woman. She turned her to the captain and sighed.

"Unfortunately, no." Her answer was. "Fleet Command hasn't given us full details yet, but they said they have a different sort of plan." Terramin was confused now.

" 'Different sort of plan?'" He questioned her. "The only we can be sure to crush the Imperials is to attack. What 'different plan' is there?" The woman only shook her head and shrugged.

"Whatever it is, they don't want to tell us..." she answered. She pressed one or two more buttons on the screen and brought up a list of names. "...but we think it might have to do with one of these." She pointed at the listed name of "Tarshuk C'jal".

"Who's that?" Terramin asked her. "How's he fit into this?" The woman once again began explaining.

"C'jal's is one of Kartanou's immediate subordinates," she told Terramin. "In fact, he has command of one of the seventeen remaining Saarkin-Cho carriers, the _Imperial Wrath_." A picture of an ordinary carrier appeared next to the face of C'jal. "Our sources believe that C'jal may be attempting to attack the Republic or Hiigara itself. Their last recorded position was seven-hundred sixty-five thousand kilometers out from the Angel Moon." Terramin turned toward the woman curiously.

"The fleet is mobilizing to deal with him," he questioned her. "Right?" The woman sighed again and shook her head.

"Unfortunately, we don't have a confirmation on his exact location," she said, turning the screen off. "He could be anywhere, hiding in the asteroid belts right under our noses or he could've retreated back outside the Republican buffer zone." Sitting in the nearest chair, the woman invited Terramin to do the same. He pulled up a chair and sat himself.

"If we're not mobilizing," he asked. "we at least have one of the fleets on patrol, is that correct?" The woman nodded this time, much to his relief.

"The Maanani Carrier Caal-Shto was just relieved by the Veer-Ack, Nabaal's Command Carrier," she answered him confidently. "The nearest fleet stations have been alerted to the possible threat and are ready to move at any moment." _Good_. Terramin seemed satisfied with that. 

"Thank you for your time, ma'am," he stood up and shook her hand. "If you'll excuse me, I'll have to be getting back to my ship." The woman stood, and, smiling, returned the shake.

"Glad I could help, Captain," When she finished shaking, she left back for the screen. Terramin was already walking past the office.

That's when the warning came in.

Everyone began scrambling to their desks, running past Terramin. Several officers opened their comm channels and pored through the static.

"This is Kii– Nabaal –rrier Veer-Ack –ny Hiigaran ships in range," The transmission became clearer and clearer. "Imperialist Taiidani forces are attacking and are attempting to reach Hiigara. We cannot hold them! Require immediate assistance!" Terramin didn't even wait for the repeat. He was already running for his ship and his crew.

It was time for revenge.


End file.
